Chapter 141: The World's Masters Cannot Move a Single Finger! (6K, Second Unity Chapter)

This scene erupted without warning—so sudden, so violent, that no one had yet recovered their wits.

When they finally registered the sight before them—the colossal Dharma Body blazing with Divine Might, and the fingertip of that body pressing down upon a stone, suppressing the Buddha Lord’s foremost Disciple like a lifeless dog—everyone froze in shock and pale silence.

This was none other than the top-ranked Disciple of the Buddha Lord—Qianlong Ranking’s First!

A prodigy since youth, he had ascended to the Sect Master Realm at just nineteen, maintaining his dominance for a full three years. During that time, he was hailed as the undisputed champion of the young generation, a title no one could challenge.

And now, mere months from turning twenty-two, this legendary figure was pinned beneath a single finger, utterly immobilized, like a broken puppet!

“Please, show mercy!”

In the suffocating silence, only the roar of the Yellow Sands of the Dragon River remained unaffected, surging forward like a tide, crashing against the Discourse Platform.

The Sky Mechanism Mountain Person was the first to react. He rushed forward, bracing himself against part of the stone’s force. But even as he made contact, a chilling realization struck him—the seemingly ordinary stone was radiating an unimaginable, soul-crushing power. The blazing Divine Flame upon it burned with the intensity of a midwinter sun, capable of reducing everything to ash.

Shock flared in his heart. He immediately turned to Li Hao and said in a desperate tone:

“Master’s Martial Discourse—this is enough! Please, do not take a life!”

He was a Three Immortal Realm cultivator. He could not stand idly by while the Buddha Lord’s Disciple was crushed into pulp before the eyes of countless masters.

If that happened, the Buddha Master seated in the pure realm of Fanyin净土 would be enraged—such fury would shatter even the Heavenly Insight Tower.

With the Sky Mechanism Mountain Person’s intervention, the other four disciples accompanying Qin Wujue snapped back to awareness. One of them—a middle-aged Arhat draped in crimson saffron robes—leapt forward instantly, dashing toward Qin Wujue. He glared at Li Hao and roared:

“This is just a Dao debate! Are you trying to murder?!”

Li Hao merely smirked, his voice calm and cool.

“I’m only debating Dao,” he replied. “Why are you so worked up?”

He had, in fact, murderous intent. But he would not kill a Buddha’s Disciple in public. That would give the Buddha Master a legitimate reason to come after him with full force.

Besides, the Disciple likely had a rank-protecting title. Unless the man personally agreed to an unrestricted duel, killing him here would violate the Great Yu Divine Dynasty’s laws.

Hearing Li Hao’s words, the middle-aged Arhat’s eyes bulged with fury, his face turning crimson as if a Buddha’s wrath had manifested.

Debate? Was this what a Dao debate looked like—crushing a man into the ground like dirt?

Yet, technically… it was within the bounds of Martial Discourse. The fault lay with Qin Wujue—his skill simply wasn’t enough. Or perhaps, it was this young man’s terrifying power that made the difference.

The towering Cosmic and Earthly Soul Form before them sent shivers down even the Arhat’s spine. He had never seen such a colossal Spirit Soul. While he himself could inflate his soul to such size, the sheer power behind it was nothing compared to this. His soul, though vast, was more refined and potent in compact form.

“Dao debate should end at a point,” the Arhat growled, his voice strained with suppressed rage. “You’ve gone too far!”

He clenched his fists, but his expression remained solemn and dignified—like a stern elder trying to reason with a reckless youth.

Li Hao calmly replied:

“You said ‘point’ to stop. I applied force to a single point. He failed to withstand it. Is this the strength of your Buddha Disciple? He’s about as tough as the one I beat with chopsticks earlier.”

The mention of that name struck like lightning.

The middle-aged Diamond Saint and the other three尊者 of Wuliang Mountain all felt their blood surge to their heads. Their years of cultivation and self-discipline could not suppress the violent fury rising within them. Their bodies trembled, veins bulging at their temples.

Li Hao’s reference was clear—his earlier opponent, Li Qianfeng, the youngest of the Buddha Master’s disciples. Qin Wujue’s junior brother, and someone he had grown close to.

Qin Wujue had challenged Li Hao not only to seek justice for Li Qianfeng but also to restore the honor of Mount Wuliang—after that disastrous True Dragon battle, Li Qianfeng’s defeat had brought deep shame upon the sect.

Now, Qin Wujue himself had been crushed—worse than Li Qianfeng had been.

And all of it, under the watchful eyes of every master in the realm.

They could barely imagine the secret mockery and ridicule Mount Wuliang would endure in the coming days.

“Such a young man, yet so arrogant in spirit! Is this what the Divine General’s Residence has become? No wonder your father had to come personally to suppress you!”

The Arhat roared, his voice trembling with fury.

“Unhand him now! You’re not showing any masterly restraint!”

A flash of cold light flickered deep in Li Hao’s eyes—then vanished instantly. His voice, icy as winter wind, cut through the air:

“You’re saying that… you want to beg for him?”

“Beg? Dao debates have winners and losers. Don’t act like a righteous man after losing!”

The Arhat’s voice was tight with rage, but he kept his expression controlled. Qin Wujue still lay on the ground, struggling helplessly. The longer he remained humiliated, the more Mount Wuliang’s dignity would be shattered.

Li Hao laughed coldly.

“Why should I spare him just because I’m right? You know you’re wrong. Then why not just kneel and apologize? Let him say it himself.”

“You—!”

The Arhat’s eyes flared with fury, but his face remained solemn and grave. If not for Li Hao’s identity and the risk of breaking etiquette—making Mount Wuliang look even more ridiculous—he would have attacked without hesitation.

“Fine!” A voice rang out from beside him. “If it’s Dao debate, then let us debate!”

One of the other尊者 of Wuliang Mountain stepped forward.

The three尊者 had come with Qin Wujue to this Master Assembly. In Mount Wuliang, Diamond Saints were at the Fifteen Li Stage,尊者 were Celestial Human Sect Masters, and Arhats stood at the Three Immortal Realm. Above them were the Bodhisattvas at the Buddha Master’s side.

“I’ll test your arrogance!”

One of the middle-aged尊者 charged forward, his eyes blazing. Golden light radiated from him as countless Buddha Beads floated around his body, swirling like a halo. These beads carried immense spiritual power, enhancing his strength by half.

He unleashed his Spirit Soul, fusing it with his body, and activated his Master’s Way—Ultimate Technique. With a single punch, he slammed toward the stone atop Qin Wujue’s head.

The stone burned like a miniature sun, its light blinding.

The尊者’s fist moved with the stillness of a mountain—calm, controlled, yet packed with devastating power. His technique emphasized stillness before motion, and now, enraged, he struck with a slow, deliberate force.

Boom!

A sound barrier shattered as the punch landed—yet instead of breaking the stone, the尊者’s arm burst open. His saffron robes tore apart, his body flew backward like a rag doll.

His fist was bleeding, flesh split open, bones exposed.

Everyone gasped. Pupils contracted in horror.

The尊者 staggered back, barely stopping before being caught by the middle-aged Arhat. Blood surged from his mouth, his face ashen as he stared at the tiny stone, now glowing with celestial light.

He had felt an overwhelming rebound force—like punching iron. Worse, all his power had been reflected back at him, without warning.

His body, though reinforced by Buddhist golden pills and divine treasure medicine, still couldn’t withstand the sheer backlash. His internal organs trembled, blood surged through his veins, and crimson droplets seeped from his eyes and nostrils.

“Impossible… what kind of Dao is this?!”

He stammered, disbelief trembling in his voice.

The Arhat’s face darkened. The other two尊者 exchanged glances—shocked. They hadn’t expected Li Hao to have enough strength to resist not just one, but three attacks simultaneously.

Without hesitation, the two尊er sprang into action.

They were both in the Baoxiang Realm. Their Spirit Souls glowed like molten gold, burning with Divine Might. They radiated immense pressure, their presence solemn and awe-inspiring.

To preserve Mount Wuliang’s honor, they did not attack Li Hao at the same time—only one after the other.

One tried to lift the stone. The other aimed to pull Qin Wujue free.

But Li Hao saw through their plan. The more they tried to save face, the more he wanted to humiliate them.

He raised his hand. Control-Objects Power surged forth, forming an invisible wall. Then, he fused his understanding of the All Paths of the Ten Thousand Things into that force—Yin-Yang, the Five Elements, the rotation of sun, moon, and stars, mountains, rivers, birds, and beasts.

He could redirect force, reduce harm, shift attacks, channel power elsewhere… or weave hidden killing intent within the strike—like a sudden sprout after rain, utterly unpredictable.

The complexity of his technique defied simple paths like the Ape Path or Yin-Yang Dao. The variety of possibilities was endless.

Even a typical Three Immortal Realm cultivator would be cut down in one strike. How could Sect Master Realm masters hope to survive?

Boom!

The尊er wielding the Vajra Mace charged forward, swinging it with the force of ten thousand mountains, aiming to crush the stone. But as his weapon struck, he felt as if it plunged into an invisible swamp. His power vanished—sucked into the stone like water into the ocean.

Before he could react, a violent recoil exploded back.

His hand trembled. His palm split open. A surge of invisible force slammed into his chest, sending him flying backward, his mace spinning wildly, before he crashed beyond the Discourse Platform.

The other尊er, a serene-faced elder, tried to exploit the moment. But as he reached out, he saw his companion flying through the air.

His expression changed instantly.

Then came a deafening roar—Li Hao’s second hand descended.

His middle finger flicked out like a colossal mountain sweeping across the sky, radiating a force that severed heaven and earth.

The elder’s face drained of color. Panic flashed in his eyes. He hurled a golden disc—a circular blade that expanded mid-air, spinning rapidly. From its core, a phantom beast head emerged, roaring toward the strike.

But the moment it appeared, it shattered—crushed by the Dharma Body’s fingertip.

The disc rang like a struck bell, flying backward, smashing into the elder’s chest and sending him flying—straight into the Dragon River.

Waves swallowed him whole. But seconds later, he surfaced, drenched and gasping, staggering back onto the platform—his clothes soaked, his face pale.

In mere moments, two尊er had fallen.

Silence.

Then, stunned murmurs.

Li Hao had suppressed Qin Wujue with a single finger—yet still had the strength to defeat three of Mount Wuliang’s top masters in succession.

What was this young man?

Earlier, the Heavenly Insight Tower had ranked him fifth in the Qianlong Ranking. Many had doubted it—thinking it inflated. But now, it was clear: the ranking was the one that was wrong.

This kind of power… ranked only fifth? It was absurd.

With Qin Wujue pinned, the former top-ranked master now looked like a joke.

Who could now guess where Li Hao truly stood?

The middle-aged Arhat stared at Li Hao, shock and fury warring within him. He had thought Li Qianfeng’s defeat was exaggerated—now he realized this boy was far more terrifying than he’d imagined.

Fourteen years old… could this youth already be invincible at the Sect Master Realm?

The Arhat clenched his teeth, his face pale with rage. He looked at the young man below, calm and smirking, his eyes cold and mocking.

He knew—unless he stepped in, this young man would utterly destroy Mount Wuliang’s honor.

But if he fought… even if he won, it would be a hollow victory.

Taking a deep breath, the Arhat turned to the crowd and shouted:

“Master’s Martial Discourse! Masters of the realm—anyone willing to face this Li Clan prodigy in Dao debate? If you defeat him, Mount Wuliang shall reward you with a priceless treasure!”

Though his voice trembled with anger, he still framed it as a Dao debate—maintaining dignity.

But everyone knew the truth.

He was begging for help. Hoping someone would step forward to defeat Li Hao and save Mount Wuliang’s face.

The “treasure” was likely just a massive favor—one that could be worth a life.

A moment passed.

Then, eyes across the audience flickered with interest.

Mount Wuliang.

The place where the Buddha Master himself reigned supreme—where even the Qian Dao Palace’s true immortal dared not challenge.

To gain a favor from them? That was a survival charm—guaranteed, as long as one didn’t publicly execute a prince.

“Hahaha! If it’s a Dao debate, then I’ll join in! Young man, you’re full of spirit! Let me test you!”

A master leapt onto the platform, laughing.

Then he drew his sword, unleashing his Ultimate Technique—Divine Aura enveloping the blade, the weapon glowing with an aura that seemed to cut through mountains and rivers. With a single slash, he aimed straight for Li Hao’s finger.

The blade carried a power of decay—corrosive, capable of withering all things.

A powerful Dao path, indeed.

But where there is decay, there is also rebirth.

Like grass growing anew, flowers blooming in spring.

The corrupting force had no effect on Li Hao. Instead, Yin-Yang Reversal surged forth, a wave of artistic conception so overwhelming it crushed the master instantly, sending him flying off the platform.

Crash!

Another master stepped up—thinking he could feel the truth through touch.

But he, too, was sent flying, blood spraying from his mouth.

One after another.

The audience watched in awe as masters kept rising, only to be thrown back—each one failing to even touch the stone.

They had seen the truth.

This boy’s power was beyond comprehension.

Even if he was exhausted from so many battles, someone might still win by sheer luck.

And if they gained Mount Wuliang’s favor—what harm was a little offense?

Then—

“Lin Qingfeng!”

“Is it him? The master from thirty years ago… is he really coming?”

All eyes turned to a figure.

An emaciated old man, standing tall. But when he stood, it was as if his shoulders bore the weight of the world—like a sage descending from the snow-capped peaks of the heavens.

A sense of awe rippled through the crowd.

Could this young man truly stop him?

The old man stepped onto the platform. No weapon. Just his hands—floating toward the glowing fingertip, as if plucking a fruit from a tree.

But those who watched closely saw their expressions shift.

The fluidity of his motion—perfect, seamless, flawless.

This was a Master of the Perfect Stage.

A single moment of insight, and he could transcend the mortal realm.

His hands were a world in themselves—capable of suppressing anything.

But as his palms neared the stone—suddenly, they burned.

Skin peeled away. Flesh split. Dozens of invisible blades tore through his flesh.

Lin Qingfeng’s relaxed expression vanished. His eyes narrowed. Yet he pressed on.

The closer he got, the worse the wounds became—his arms torn open, sleeves shredded, nails ripped off, skin flayed.

At last, when his palm was inches from the stone—a surge of power erupted like a tiger’s roar.

His body convulsed. His pupils contracted.

Boom!

He was launched backward like a ragdoll, crashing beyond the platform.

Blood poured from his arms, his body a mess of torn flesh.

He crawled back up, his once elegant robes now tattered, hair disheveled. He looked like a beggar.

Slowly, he lifted his head. Blood trickled from his mouth, hidden by his wild hair.

He could not speak.

His mind reeled.

Then, slowly, his gaze shifted—not to the stone, but to the other seat.

To the young man sitting calmly on a plain chair.

And in that moment, he realized.

The young man hadn’t even used his true body.

A chilling thought formed in his heart.

Could it be… this boy—only fourteen—had already reached the Peak of the Sect Master Realm? Was he already half-step into the Three Immortals?

The idea shattered him.

Who among those who reached the Heavenly Human Stage weren’t prodigies? Who hadn’t once been ranked among the Heavens and Earths?

Now, they were elders.

But their hearts still burned with the desire to climb higher.

Yet now, their passion had been shattered by a single finger.

As Lin Qingfeng collapsed, the crowd fell silent. Even the great master had been defeated.

But soon, the murmurs returned.

More masters stepped forward.

With Lin Qingfeng’s strength already spent, even a loss would be worth it.

But the next challenger—like the rest—was sent flying, spitting blood.

At the edge of the crowd, Li Wushuang stood motionless.

When Qin Wujue had challenged Li Hao, her heart had burned with anger.

But now, that anger had been replaced by awe.

The same strange Spirit Soul she’d seen when Li Tiangang fought—that same soul, now blazing with Divine Flame, like a wrathful god descending upon the world.

And the power… beyond anything she could imagine.

He was defeating masters who had earned their names over decades.

While she still struggled toward the Fifteen Li Stage, this boy already carried the aura of a master who could command the entire realm.

Was this the gap between them?

On the other side, Zhou Haitang stood.

He shook off the shock in his eyes and walked toward the platform.

Zhou Ling’er and the others snapped back.

“Father!” Zhou Ling’er cried. “You’re not going, are you? You can’t win—”

She couldn’t finish.

Her mouth filled with bitter, choking taste.

In her heart, her father was the strongest, the

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end